


new rules

by burnsidesjulia



Category: The Adventure Zone (Podcast)
Genre: Abundant Fluff, Cunnilingus, Established Relationship, F/F, Fluff and Smut, Girls in Love, Misuse of Goldcliff Militia Property, Pre-Canon, Reading, Strap-Ons
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-23
Updated: 2019-04-23
Packaged: 2020-01-25 15:37:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,091
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18577429
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/burnsidesjulia/pseuds/burnsidesjulia
Summary: "I need to have this read. No exceptions."in which Hurley needs to not be distracted, and Sloane is distracting.





	new rules

Sloane finds the love of her life, the moon to her stars, Hurley, Hurley, Hurley, sitting on the couch, reading.

She’s so beautiful. Even unsuspecting as she is- Sloane did sneak in, after all- Hurley is so at peace in her natural state. Her hair is falling flat and her eyebrows are crinkled just so, her lips slightly parted. It’s the reality of her that Sloane loves. It’s her soft parts and her scars and stray hairs, bumps on her skin and stretch marks and muscle. It’s all of her, really. And it’s going to such waste being ignored as it is right now.

She sits on the couch beside her. Hurley does not turn. She nuzzles the top of her head into the crook of Hurley’s neck, much like a needy cat. She still doesn’t look. She kisses below her ear and for this trouble, all she gets is a sigh in response.

“Hurley,” she says eventually, disbelieving in her voice. She’s never so blatantly ignored her before unless it was for something serious, a death or other loss. She waits in quiet anticipation for her to deliver the bad news.

“Shove it,” she says instead. She turns her head just long enough to lower her eyebrows sternly at her. “I’m studying, alright? Whole bunch of new rules that Bane implemented because of you. I’ve got about thirty pages left and I need to have it read by tomorrow.”

“If the rules are about me, you should have no trouble.” She wrenches one of Hurley’s hands away from the book, caressing it. “You know me like the back of your own hand.” She presses a sweet kiss to Hurley’s palm

“I’m not a big fan of just guessing rules on the fly,” Hurley nearly snaps. She tugs her hand back and replaces it on the book. “I _need_ to have this read,” she states. “No exceptions.”

Sloane scoffs. What a dumb reason. Her love overflows and fills her with syrup, sweetens her inside out, and that must be more important than some book. “But,” she says, only slightly pouting. She has far too much dignity for that. “But I want you.”

“Have me later.” Her nose stays buried in the book.

“But I want you _now_.” She pauses, and then tries, “I came all this way for you, _my love._ ” Hurley twirls an absent finger through her own curls and gives no response. Sloane inspects her closely, watches her chest rise and fall with lazy breaths and her mouth half-form the words she reads. She loves her so much, but she’s beginning to feel nearly ready to give up on her begging now. She puts her hand on Hurley’s shoulder as a sort of goodbye gesture and starts to stand, perhaps to go and swipe an item or two from her as a sort of petty payback, but as she gets up Hurley rolls her eyes and closes the book over her finger. She looks Sloane up and down, and Sloane looks back at her. The chapped roughness of her lips, and the stray eyelash on her cheek that she brushes away so softly; there’s so rarely time for softness, she thinks, but there is right now, and that makes her smile. Hurley cracks a light smile in response.

“I’ll tell you what, missy,” she says. “If you can find a way to get your fix without disturbing my reading, I’m fine with it.” Though she acts resigned, Sloane can tell when Hurley’s enjoying herself. The idea of her trying to keep her cool while she smothers her with attention is incredibly attractive to Sloane, and so she takes the offer with a decisive nod before Hurley has a chance to take it back. She scoots closer to her.

“Keep reading,” Sloane says. “You’ll hardly even notice me.” Sloane shoots her finger-guns. “I’ll be in and out before you can even _think_ to arrest me.” Hurley smiles a tight-lipped smile, one that says she doesn’t believe Sloane whatsoever. “I’m _thinking_ about arresting you right now for breaking and entering,” Hurley says, and then turns back to her book.

Sloane starts with her face. Careful to keep her wrists and arms out of her eyes, she brushes gentle fingertips around the heart-shaped outline of her face. It must tickle at her hairline, because she huffs in what sounds like suppressed laughter. It must feel lovely at her jawline, because she tips her head to the side to allow her greater reach. Sloane closely examines her face. Soft brown freckles, peach fuzz on her cheeks, a streak of what might be grease along her cheekbone. She’s still reading.

Sloane carries on her journey down the side of Hurley’s neck, making a pit stop at the line of her throat. She kisses there lovingly and feels the appreciative hum she returns her through her lips. She kisses up and down Hurley’s neck, around in circles like strings of pearls. She sucks one hickey into her skin, a blooming red patch making rose garden of lovely tan skin, but she receives a bit of a glare for it and then thinks better. That’s alright. She wouldn’t want Captain Captain Bane to notice that anyway and give Hurley shit for it.

Sloane kisses down her collarbone, down the hollow of her throat, across the ribs that line her chest. She asks, softly so as not to disturb her, “Can I take your shirt off?”, and is answered with, “That would distract me.” Hurley’s voice sounds abnormally pleasant. Sloane wonders, though she knows, of course, if she’s not the only one enjoying this after all.

So maybe she can’t remove clothes. That’s alright. She always finds a way around Hurley’s traps.

Sloane slithers off the couch and finds herself on her knees before Hurley, which just so happens to be her _favorite_ destination. She nudges her legs apart and settles between them with a solid pat to each thigh, maybe a little harder than is necessary. Hurley glances down at her, but quickly goes back to her reading. Sloane nudges up her shirt, sitting as high as she can on her knees and kissing at the swell of each breast, ghosting teeth over nipples, and she thanks every god she can think of that Hurley has always been a strong proponent against bras. She tilts her head to kiss the skin beneath her breasts as well, to press tongue and teeth to her ribcage and the muscles lining her stomach. Hurley’s breaths start coming in odd patterns, her legs twitching slightly, but every time Sloane checks Hurley’s eyes are still glued to the pages of her book.

Sloane reaches her waist and the tempting line of her hips. A muscular ‘v’ shape points down, and she really can’t help but follow its invitation. She kisses that line, all the way down to the waistband of her pants and then back up the other side. Sloane nuzzles her nose into the warm crook of her thigh, holds that same thigh in her hands and gods, it really would take more than two hands to wrap around it. She only has two hands, unfortunately, and so she wraps her hands around the bottom of her thigh, kissing sweetly at the top. Hurley shifts just slightly, her thighs parting. Sloane smiles against the roughness of her jeans, gives a gentle bite through the denim. She looks to her face again. For just a moment, Hurley tilts her head back and closes her eyes.

Sloane’ hands wander and reach the buttons of her pants. She kisses that button so gently, kisses the skin above it, and looks up at Hurley through her eyelashes. “Let me eat you out,” she whispers to her, silk in her words “ _Please_.”

Hurley is silent for a moment. Then she reaches down and undoes the fly of her own pants with one hand, the other still holding open her book. She presses down on the back of Sloane’s head, tugging just a little at her hair. Sloane shifts further up between her legs, and Hurley smiles slightly down at her. She sets aside her book for just a moment to kiss her on the forehead, teeth grazing just lightly. “Now stop distracting me,” she whispers. “Or I’ll arrest you so fast you won’t even know what hit you.” She lands another peck on Sloane’s forehead, then picks up her book and goes quiet once more.

Sloane slowly drags her pants down her legs, pausing every now and then to press and open-mouthed kiss to her skin. It's an empty threat, but the thrill it brings rushing through Sloane's veins is still very real. Hurley doesn’t respond to her motions, but goosebumps prick along her skin where her tongue touches her, a sure sign that she is feeling and reacting to her ministrations. When her pants reach the floor, Sloane leaves them puddled about her feet. She kisses each ankle above the line of her socks, each knee at the joint where it bends, the insides of both her thighs and the outside as well. She sets one hand atop her thigh, and the other traces a finger over Hurley’s panties. She rubs her fingers against her softly, a teasing touch that makes Hurley groan slightly. Her thighs tense, pull together for a moment and then part again, wider this time. Sloane lowers her face to her and breathes in deep. She can smell Hurley’s arousal, the thick, heady scent of her wetness gathering beneath fabric. Sloane tucks a finger into the band of her panties and tugs them downward with one quick pull, revealing Hurley to her. Sloane’s breath catches, because Hurley is so perfect, and because Hurley so clearly turned on by this and yet still so calm above her, eyes locked to the pages of her book.

“You’re beautiful, Hurley,” Sloane breathes, and she hears a soft laugh in response. “Quiet,” Hurley says. She tosses one thick leg over her shoulder, the weight making her brain fog a little. “Touch me.” Her voice is just as soft as Sloane’s was. Sloane has never been one to leave her love waiting. Never for too long, at least.

Sloane pushes her legs open just a bit further, presses her face between them and buries her mouth against her. She opens her mouth wide, running her tongue from her entrance to her clit, then back down, back up, over and over until she’s quaking around her. Only when Hurley breathes out, “Please-” does Sloane move, bringing her index and middle fingers up to press into her clit, rubbing rough circles against it. Hurley squeaks and shifts around a bit, settling her weight lower down so that she might more easily move toward Sloane’s mouth. She lets go of the book with one hand to touch the back of Sloane’s head ever so gently, and then seems to re-ground herself and moves it back to the book. Sloane rolls her eyes, slipping her tongue out and over Hurley’s slick lips, tasting her wetness before curling up into her, probing the inside walls with the tip of her tongue. Hurley’s legs start shaking, an involuntary motion that Sloane knows she can’t control, her pulse hard enough that Sloane can feel it in her cunt. She pulls her tongue out, stills her fingers, and lays her head on the swell of Hurley’s belly, positioning herself so that she knows she can be seen beneath the book. She licks her lips and smiles wide.

“Your book still so interesting that you can’t even watch a little?” Sloane teases, and Hurley shakes her head. “I still have twenty-three pages left,” she reports, and it feels like a small victory that her voice is a little choked. Sloane licks her lips again, absentmindedly tracing patterns on Hurley’s skin. “I think I’d like to know what Captain Bootlicker is up to,” she muses, and Hurley swats at her. “Don’t call him that.” Sloane ignores her protest and drags a blunt nail down Hurley’s hipbone ever so slowly. “I was _saying_ that I’d like you to read aloud to me, darling.”

Hurley’s breath catches. “You don’t want that,” she laughs after a moment’s recovery. “It’s all boring technical stuff. Nothing that would interest you.”

“I’m interested in you,” Sloane retorts. “Unequivocally. Indisputably. Etcetera.” She presses a kiss to the red line she left scratched across her skin. Against her skin, Sloane says, “So read to me, or I’ll leave you like this and not finish what I’ve started.”

Hurley’s back goes rigid. Sloane is certain they both know that she’s willing to go through with the threat, and so it doesn’t surprise her when Hurley reopens her book and says aloud, “A recent amendment to Rule 5.3a states that in the case of a robbery, it is against policy to negotiate, barter, or haggle with the robber to make them take, quote, ‘less loot’ than they originally had, unless the trade is to take none at all.”

Sloane snickers. “That’s a pretty targeted rule, don’t you think?”

“I’ve only done it once or twice. And only with you.” Sloane smiles and presses the pad of her thumb gently against Hurley’s clit. “I sure cause a lot of problems for you, don’t I?” she muses.

“Tell me about it,” Hurley mutters, and Sloane repays her with a sharp bite to the inner thigh. Hurley swears and goes quiet again.

“Keep reading,” Sloane demands.

“An addition was made to Rule 43 in accordance with new bureau policy. Under no circumstances may coworkers in the department date or see each other with intention to procreate, and this same rule applies to any criminal past or present.” Sloane nearly rolls her eyes as she presses her mouth back to Hurley, lapping at her entrance. Hurley’s voice shakes as she continues, “Criminals shall not be released from police custody under any circumstances, even if they intend to, quote, ‘give the stuff back or whatever.’” 

“That wasn’t you that broke that rule,” Sloane muses, but finds herself cut off as Hurley groans and pulls her back against her, tightening her thighs around her head. Her airflow is cut off a little now but she couldn’t care less, barely catching shaky words through the muffle of Hurley’s thighs, warmth surrounding her, shaking, the world breaking apart.

It isn’t long before Hurley comes, her thighs pressing so hard to either side of Sloane’s face that it feels like her skull is going to shatter. When her thighs part Hurley is shaking, breathing hard, and not reading anymore, the book lying discarded beside her, the pages pressed open against the couch.

“Good enough for you?” Sloane asks a little cockily, and Hurley grabs her by the hair and pulls her into a messy kiss, hands sliding up her tank top and over her slim shoulders and tight muscles. Sloane kisses back, fingers digging into Hurley’s soft flesh, trying desperately to pull her closer still. She peppers kisses across Hurley’s cheeks in the pattern of her freckles, endless and thoughtless and yet each still with such importance. She crawls into Hurley’s lap and lets her undo her belt, take down her jeans and push them to the floor. It’s a lot of desperate grinding and panting then, movement that has no end goal but friction, an animalistic sort of pull in their bellies. Hurley wraps her arms around Sloane’s shoulders and holds on tight, head tucked into the crook of her neck, eyes closed and seeking nirvana. Sloane is made so breathless by her, so hopeless. She doesn’t even know what to do with all the love she feels.

“I want more of you,” Hurley is breathing now, her shirt half-off with one sleeve empty, and Sloane wants more of her, too. She unravels their body like pieces of tangled twine and stands to cross the apartment, digging through Hurley’s drawers until she finds what she wants. She returns with a harness wrapped around her hips, a sizable dildo bobbing between her legs.

Hurley makes a noise so soft it’s almost not a noise, a soft sort of sigh on the vowel ‘oh’, but Sloane hears it and it nearly drives her mad. She steps forward and carefully moves the book from the couch to the table in front of them, leaving it open to the exact page. She makes to lie down and Hurley follows her, jumping off the couch just as quickly as she remounts, climbing on top of Sloane and making herself comfortable. The weight of her girlfriend atop her grounds Sloane in the most delicious way, makes her float as much as it does keep her steady. She holds out her hand and, as nicely as she can, says, “Spit.”

Hurley spits once, twice, and then a third time before she says, “That’s nasty.” She’s smiling as she says it, though, and her eyes light up as Sloane brings her hand down to stroke herself, getting her cock wet and ready. Sloane might be patient but Hurley is not, and she soon is lifting herself over Sloane’s cock, pressing the head in and sinking down, down, down. Hurley gasps, closes her eyes and lays forward, seeking out the perfect angle. She finds what she’s looking for, or at least something adjacent to it, as she starts to bounce her hips up and down, slowly at first and then with vigor, a hand flying to her own chest to tug at her nipples.

Sloane reaches up and pulls her hand away, not to replace it with her own, but to press the book back into Hurley’s hands.

There is a moment of probably confused silence, and Sloane can hear the smile in her own voice as she says, “I don’t believe I told you to stop reading.”

Hurley’s hands are trembling as she opens the book again, eyes flitting uselessly over the page. “I, uhm- Rule 34b… if it is possible that a criminal has disguised themself as another criminal, it is the- fuck!” Sloane snaps her own hips upward to meet Hurley’s, nearly jolting the book from her hands. She grins. “It’s what now?” She slows to a soft upward grind that still has Hurley breathless.

“Oh, _gods_ … it is the- ah!- the _duty_ of any and all officers on the case to seek out and uncover the true identity of- oh gods, Sloane, please…”

“Good enough,” Sloane supposes out loud. She licks one of her own fingers and presses it to Hurley’s clit. “Tell me more.”

“Rule 79 states that no activities that may need attended to are _mnnn_ -more important than th-the task at hand. This, oh gods, includes but is not limited to all personal affairs, be they family or relationship or otherwise based- _Sloane!_ ” As she’d spoken, the slow grind had escalated to tiny thrusts, then to harder pulses until finally Hurley was just along for the ride, bouncing and shaking as Sloane pounded into her. As Hurley cries out, Sloane slows to a near stop again.

“Too much?” she asks, half-teasing and half seriously asking if she’s okay, because Hurley isn’t usually quite so loud. Hurley shakes her head and grinds her hips forward. “Don’t stop, _please,_ ” she nearly begs, and Sloane isn’t the type to ignore a plea. She wraps one hand around Hurley’s waist and keeps the other pressed to her clit, and slowly guides her girlfriend’s hips up and down. She’s about to ask Hurley to start reading again when she reopens the book and focuses on the page, hips still rolling slightly. “Rule 69 has been amended to read, ‘if an officer of the law in any position above and including lieutenant is found to be fraternizing with the enemy…” She sucks in a deep breath as Sloane draws a hard circle over her clit. Sloane grins up at her. “What’ll happen to that totally ambiguous, unknown person, dear?” she asks innocently, still circling her clit, and Hurley closes her eyes. “Fuck. They’ll be put to death.”

Sloane halts her motions. “That’s not true,” she says, feeling her blood run cold. “They wouldn’t… Hurley, you’re not in danger are you?”

Hurley leans down to kiss her on the nose. “Nah. Just fucking with you.” She closes the book and throws it to the floor. “You should’ve guessed when I said rule 69.” Sloane lets go of Hurley’s hip to slap herself in the forehead. “Oh, you’ve bested me,” she cries out, only halfway kidding. “Whatever will I do? How will I recover?”

“Shhh,” Hurley breathes, a finger on her lips now. “I’m done reading for now. Is that okay?”

“Definitely,” Sloane says, and then they’re kissing and Hurley’s hips are rocking and there’s not a sound in the world but their heavy breathing and the slick sounds of Sloane sliding in and out of Hurley.

Hurley pulls back from the kiss but stays laid over her, grunting at the effort but loving the angle. Her eyes slip closed and at some point, so do Sloane’s. She can tell Hurley is getting close from the way her knees are pressing into the outside of Sloane’s thighs, the way she’s grabbing at Sloane’s wrist and forcing her hand harder, tighter, faster against her. Sloane obeys her silent demands and keeps going until Hurley clenches and shudders, body going tight and then loose all in the span of a few seconds. She opens her eyes to watch Hurley ride out the aftershocks, bouncing just a little more on Sloane’s cock, and Sloane doesn’t stop until Hurley whimpers and moves her hand away. She rolls off of her and lands on the floor beside the couch, kneeling so that she can still look into Sloane’s eyes. She smiles, kinda sheepishly, the way she always is after sex.

Sloane loves her. And she knows that, and she’s known that for a long time, but sometimes it hits a little harder. Sometimes, like right now, she thinks about how lucky she is. She can’t imagine anything stronger than what she’s feeling right now.

“Want some?” Hurley asks, still shy, her fingers creeping to Sloane’s inner thigh. Sloane nods and they help each other unhook her harness, setting it off to the side to be dealt with later. Sloane sits where Hurley had been earlier and spreads her thighs, and Hurley devours her with little ado, tongue everywhere and yet not where she wants it all at the same time. Hurley is intoxicating, a pro at what she does, and Sloane’s already been so turned on for so long. She comes when Hurley seals her lips around her clit and sucks _hard_ , two fingers in her, and stays put until Sloane stops shaking. She crawls back up on the couch and puts her head on Sloane’s lap.

“I’ve still got to finish that book,” she says after a long silence. She yawns, stretching her arms up. “But you wore me out.”

Sloane pauses. She should go. She never spends too long in Hurley’s apartment, just in case someone else from the force drops by for a visit, but looking down at Hurley she just doesn’t have the heart to move her.

She steels herself, considers the worst that could happen. So maybe she gets caught. She’d go to jail to keep Hurley like this, all to herself.

She picks the book up from the floor and opens it up, flipping through until she can find the first rule she remembers Hurley reading to her. “Rule 43: in accordance with new bureau policy, under no circumstances may coworkers in the department date or see each other with intention to procreate, and this same rule applies to any criminal past or present.” Hurley yawns again, cracking an eye open. “I already read this part.”

“A second time around never hurt anybody,” Sloane answers. Her hands shake a little as she keeps going, keeps reading through all the issues she’s made. Somewhere around rule 115, she’s tempted to ask Hurley if she’s worth all the trouble she causes, but when she looks down she finds her girlfriend fast asleep. A small ribbon of drool has leaked from her mouth and made contact with Sloane’s skin, but she doesn’t even care. She smiles and closes up the book, running absent fingers through her girlfriend’s hair.

Their situation is not ideal. Not even close. But Sloane wouldn’t trade it for anything.

She doesn’t think anything could ever be more important than this.

**Author's Note:**

> i'll be honest- i've had major writer's block for about a month and a half. it always happens at this time of year, but still every year im disappointed in myself. hopefully this cures it. maybe, maybe not.
> 
> thank you for reading! this probably feels kinda rushed, which it was, but i hope you enjoyed anyway! leaving me comment, kudos, and bookmarks fuels me. please, say something nice- i read them all and get excited about them to my friends.
> 
> im on tumblr @dungeondyke, where i post taz silliness and aesthetics! thank you again for reading!


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